


Heads Will Roll

by skivvysupreme



Series: The Wax Verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Derogatory Language, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Direct follow-up to "Thriller": Kurt takes it upon himself to deal with Sebastian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads Will Roll

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during "Michael," canon-wise.
> 
> (This series is written out of order. If you'd like a chronological list, I'm on tumblr under the same name, and have a masterpost for this verse which notes the story order!)

Santana knew things about Kurt.

He could kick higher than she could. His mom died when he was eight. He tweezed his eyebrows. He lost his virginity some time last November, because he’d shown up to Cheerios practice one day and his hips suddenly moved like he knew what he was doing.

Santana was observant, and whether Kurt liked it or not, she knew things. So, it didn’t take much for her to notice when something was seriously wrong.

He was sitting alone in the vacant astronomy classroom. Santana spotted the brown quiff atop his bowed head and yet another ridiculous sweater over broad, hunched shoulders. That was weird, she thought, because Kurt didn’t hunch. She approached the table slowly and sat down as she asked, “What are you doing in here?”

Kurt lifted his head. Santana’s dark eyes widened at the sight of his vamped-out face. They were unnerving, the sharp fangs and blacked-out eyes, but Santana had yet to be afraid of him. The concerning part was the fact that he looked like this at school. Santana had seen him this way within the walls of McKinley once, and only once. Kurt was careful.  

“You okay, Bloody Spice?”

He looked up at the ceiling, eyes glimmering black and wet under the fluorescent lights, and took a deep breath. “Every time I think I’m the angriest I’ll ever be, it gets worse.”

Santana eyed the black bowtie around his neck and couldn’t help but think of Blaine. That was probably the point.

Kurt continued, “Sebastian needs to be held accountable.”

“More than that. Blaine’s one of us.”

“ _He’s mine_ ,” Kurt said, and it came out in a low snarl that made the hair on the back of Santana’s neck stand up. “What would you do if you were me?”

“I’d burn that sweater, first of all.”

“Santana…”

“For trying to come at me, I’d rip Sebastian’s balls off. For hurting Brittany? I’d kill him. And, see, the thing about you, My Bitey Pony, is that you could actually do that.”

Kurt put his face in his hands. “That is exactly why I can’t. I’ve fought against violence at this school for too long. I can’t abuse my power, not to hurt anyone.”

Santana nodded. “I respect that. But we know Mr. Schue’s ‘I called Dalton’ crap isn’t gonna get anything done, so what do you wanna do?”

Kurt had been thinking about this for hours. They needed to know what was in that slushie, because maybe, from there, they could gather evidence. But a confession would be even better, if they could rattle Sebastian enough to do it. “I have an idea.”

*****

“…She insulted my honor. I demand satisfaction, in Warbler tradition. You guys might want to clear out; I don’t want you to see me make a girl cry.”

Santana stood as tall as she could in front of Sebastian and the nervous little minions behind him, snorting at his pompous douchebaggery, completely unfazed. “You want to have a duel?” She turned to the cello players in the middle of the room and said, “Cello guys, can you stick around? I’m gonna need you for this one.”

The room emptied of Warblers, leaving only Sebastian, Santana, and the musicians. The music started, the cello players stroking their bows across the strings furiously. Santana sat calmly in one of the far chairs, crossing her legs deliberately and folding her arms across her chest with a _bring it_ nod of her head as she waited for Sebastian.

He opened his mouth to begin, but then—

The lights went out, plunging the room into complete darkness, and the music stopped with an ugly, minor-chord screech. When the lights came back up, the dim, greenish emergency bulbs had taken their place. Sebastian squinted in the darkness; Santana was gone, and the two black cellos in the center of the rings of chairs sat abandoned on their stands.

Sebastian scoffed. “What’s this supposed to be? Scare tactic? I got the feeling you were above pointless New Directions dramatics.”

“We just reenacted _West Side Story_ in a parking garage under cover of darkness, Sebastian. None of us are above dramatics,” Kurt said from behind him, his head tilted a little and one eyebrow raised as he watched Sebastian spin around in surprise.

“What do you want, Kurt?” Sebastian sighed, rolling his eyes. “I thought Santana would be entertaining, but you coming here is just sad. Run out of things to do with Gay Cyclops?”

Kurt made a little humming noise and asked, “You mean Blaine? My boyfriend? Let’s talk about him, shall we?”

This was the hard part. Kurt didn’t know how he’d ended up in Sebastian’s head that night, only that it happened once they made eye contact. But, if he did it once, he could do it again. Kurt took a few slow, measured steps forward and waited for Sebastian to stop sneering long enough to look him in the eye.

Sebastian shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “What’s there to say? He stuck his pretty face where it didn’t belong. I was supposed to hit you.” On the last word, he finally turned and cast a disdainful look at Kurt.

Kurt narrowed his eyes and stared a little harder, bracing himself for the switch, and—

Nothing.

“I… I’m surprised you owned up to that at all,” Kurt said. Maybe he needed to be closer for it to work. He stepped forward again, until the outermost ring of chairs was at his waist. He ran his fingertips delicately over the back of one and continued, “Especially since you’re enough of a coward to try and sneak-attack someone when you’ve already lost. Not that it was ever a real fight.” Kurt twirled a hand in the air and threw Sebastian a knowing little smile, making it clear that he wasn’t talking about the Jackson-Off. He had to keep Sebastian’s attention if he was going to break into his thoughts.

“You put something in that slushie.”

“Prove it.”

Sebastian was full-on glaring at him now, but… still nothing. Damn it, what was it? If this didn’t work, the plan would fall apart. Kurt stayed at the edge of the chairs and tried to remember what had been different about that particular moment. “I’m curious, what did you hope to achieve that night?”

Sebastian moved to the center of the chairs and paced back and forth in the little ring. “Well, I figured I’d get a good laugh once you’d screamed and cried like a little girl, as you do, and then Blaine could see how weak you really are.”

“I’m going to ignore your alarming and misogynistic fixation with gender binary for a second and point out that all you managed to do was reinforce my relationship with Blaine in front of everyone.” Here, he slowed to let each syllable echo in the room and slide down the walls as he drove his point home: “All you did was show everyone how much Blaine loves me.”

At that, Kurt felt a pulse in the air. Sebastian’s heart was beating harder and faster. As Kurt stared Sebastian down, and the smirk on Sebastian’s face was replaced by a twisted grimace and flared nostrils, everything clicked.

Kurt saw himself standing opposite Sebastian, saw the delight flit across his own face at having made it into his head. That was it. The pulse was the key. Kurt’s senses had been so heightened that night, with every heart beating against his skin, and when he’d locked eyes with Sebastian, it had happened. Catching Sebastian’s internal rhythm and then accidentally focusing on it had been like tuning a radio.

And then Kurt heard the words, filling his head like he had earphones on, and he knew they were thoughts; Sebastian’s voice came venomous and bitter: _**Fuck off, you fucking queen.**_

Kurt smiled humorlessly. He hadn’t heard that title in a while. “You know I’m right.”

“What, about Blaine playing the hero? Rescuing the princess? Sure, Peach, I’ll give you that.”

Kurt watched his own eye start to twitch, and tried to clamp down on his rising temper as his vision changed again. He still saw himself in the rehearsal space with Sebastian, in his black suit and knee-high, lace-up boots, but he could also see himself standing next to Blaine at the Lima Bean. _**You’ve got to be kidding, Blaine.**_ Saw his little navy blue capelet snug around his shoulders, his soft features delicately, carefully watching Sebastian from where he sat across the table, his legs crossed in his usual skintight pants. _**Do they sell men’s clothes where he shops?**_ Heard his own voice, lilting high and light as a wind chime over the words, “And how do we know Sebastian?” _**No wonder Blaine plays the innocent schoolboy thing so well. He’s not getting any from this one. Better check between those legs, Anderson.**_

These were Sebastian’s memories of the day they met, the day he decided that Kurt was merely an obstacle, that Kurt was not enough — was not _man enough_ — for Blaine. More memories flooded his mind: images of Kurt, next to images of strong, classy, old-Hollywood-handsome Blaine, next to images of Sebastian’s own poised, masculine swagger. _**What the hell is Blaine seeing here? I thought he was into men.**_ It was jarring for Kurt, seeing himself that way while hearing those words, though the words themselves were nothing new. Sebastian’s derision was palpable in his memories, and in his thoughts now. It was every ignorant comment thrown his way by Karofsky, Azimio, hell, even Finn once upon a time — _“I can’t sleep here, I’m a dude”_ — only worse.

Kurt forced out a laugh, but it came out more like a bark with his building anger as he started to circle Sebastian. “You really think you’re something. Such a sophisticate, just because you know what courvoisier tastes like, because your rich father let you sip liquor in Paris once. Well, I’ve got news for you, you clearance-bin Draco Malfoy. You aren’t shit.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock as Kurt threw the memory from France at him, but Kurt didn’t stop. “What a guy you are, playing lacrosse and popping your collar. By the way, I saw those two popped collars you were wearing at Scandals, and let me tell you: as if those weren’t enough to repel anyone with taste, your Steve-from- _Blue’s-Clues_ sweater seduced _no one_.”

“Funny, Kurt,” Sebastian said, but Kurt could hear in his own mind how funny it wasn’t, since Sebastian had indeed failed that night. Sebastian shrugged it off, outwardly, and said, “My shirt wouldn’t matter once Blaine got it off. That face of yours? That isn’t going anywhere.”

“Ha! There it is, right there. Despite what you think I’m supposed to be, Blaine loves me. And you know it, and that just kills you. See, I am a man, Sebastian. But you are a rat. I know, being the tallest rodent in Meerkat Manor may have its privileges, but it’s not enough to take Blaine away from me.”

Images of Blaine hit him then, images of Blaine on his knees in front of Sebastian, looking up with those big eyes open wide and his soft, needy mouth full—

Kurt gripped the edge of a chair, reminding himself that that was an image of something that hadn’t happened. It was something Sebastian could only imagine, a fantasy of how he’d thought that night at Scandals would end once Blaine had a couple drinks in him, which was despicable on so many levels, and—

Things were getting dangerous now, because Kurt was _furious_. His gums were starting to tingle.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You know what? You can have Blaine. I see it now, what an idiot he is.” _ **Fuck.**_ “Maybe I won’t be the one to show him how much of his time he’s wasted, but this high school sweetheart bullshit won’t last.” _**Wait ‘til Kurt graduates. I give it a month**_. “Blaine’s like a puppy, he needs someone to pet him and tell him he’s a good boy. So, as soon he gets away from the overly impressed, first-boyfriend cock-lock you’ve got him in, he’ll start looking for approval elsewhere. I’m not gonna ‘take him away’ from you, you desperate little child. You’ll just fucking throw him, all by yourself.”

Concentration was slipping from Kurt’s grasp now. The images were getting worse. Blaine was on his back, completely exposed and submissive for Sebastian, head tilted back with his arms above his head — _no_ , Kurt thought, _he does that for me and me only_ — Kurt couldn’t tell if Sebastian imagined that or if he had, as Sebastian’s words unlocked that one dark thought that Kurt didn’t like to entertain when he thought of his future with Blaine, because no, that wouldn’t happen, they were different —

Kurt pushed the image aside. He was done with this disgusting little jaunt through Sebastian’s mind; he needed to find what he came for and get the fuck out. He focused on himself, pulling up Sebastian’s actual memories again, and it didn’t take long before Sebastian was replaying the attack in his mind — because Kurt had accessed it or because Sebastian just wanted to watch it again, Kurt didn’t know. There were Nick and Jeff in the parking garage, looking equal parts eager and apprehensive as they returned from 7-11 with the slushie. Sebastian unveiled a plastic baggie full of white, chunky rock salt, and he dumped it in, stirring it with the straw until it blended.

Rock salt. Something designed and used to break things down, something that left remnants of itself behind after it finished its job. A sharply calculated weapon, as it would appear invisible, become visually indistinguishable once the red syrup had colored it, and eventually disappear. It would do acute damage, as long as Sebastian’s aim was true. And it had been, but then it was Blaine’s horrible sounds of pain echoing in the garage, not Kurt’s, the way Sebastian had wanted. And that was too much, watching Blaine curled and crumbling under Kurt’s hands while Kurt petted his arm and couldn’t do anything else about it.

Kurt couldn’t hold the link anymore. His vision was losing focus, flickering like he was blacking out, but he could still see Sebastian sneering at him in the center of the chairs.

From the look on his face, Sebastian could tell his barbs had sunk in. His voice was so viciously light as he teased, “I always knew I’d make Blaine scream at some point, but I never expected—”

His voice cut off with a croak as Kurt’s hand curled around his throat and pressed his jaw shut.

Kurt didn’t have to squeeze hard. Not hard enough to bruise, anyway. He just needed a firm, unrelenting grip to render Sebastian silent and afraid. He held on and lowered his arm, and Sebastian lowered with it, his knees buckling as he sat forcibly in a chair, looking up at Kurt with wide green eyes. He swung his arms and kicked his feet out, connecting easily with Kurt’s arms and shins, but they made no difference. Kurt didn’t even flinch. It was like a frightened bird trying to escape a house through a closed window.

Kurt hadn’t felt this focused and controlled all day; his eyes and teeth stayed human-looking and the adrenaline of his own cold fury seemed to slow everything down around them. His voice was icy enough to send a shiver down Sebastian’s spine as he said, “If I were you — and thank everything that I’m not — I would consider the fact that I’m still in one piece right now as my warning. Do not come near either of us, ever again.”

Gurgling noises came from Sebastian’s throat as he tried to speak. Kurt loosened his grip a little.

“My dad is an attorney,” he said, spit collecting in front of his gritted teeth. “They’ll wreck you in juvie. Th-this is assault, you’re threatening me—”

Kurt peered down at Sebastian casually, contemplatively, like a cat considering whether or not to finish off the mouse he had just caught in his teeth and was now pinning to the floor by its tail. He leaned close, and whispered, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Prove it.”

Everything went black as the emergency lights shut off. The grip around Sebastian’s throat was gone, and he gasped for breath in the darkness. When the lights came up, he was still sitting in the innermost ring of chairs, only the two cello players were staring at him, and Santana was back in her chair as well. Sebastian’s head whipped around, searching for Kurt, but he was gone.

“What the fuck was that? Where’s Kurt?”

Santana’s neat eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s a little late for the insanity defense, jackass. Are you not ready? Maybe you need me to start instead?”

Sebastian straightened his tie with twitching fingers and swiped imaginary lint off his blazer as he rose from the chair and tried to center himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to stop his barely perceptible trembling, and spat at the cello players, “Begin.”

*****

“Blaine?” Kurt peered around the half-open door to his bedroom.

Blaine was laying on his side, head propped up on a couple pillows as _The Aristocats_ played on his TV. “Hey, Kurt! I wasn’t expecting you until later.” He paused the movie and sat up with his back against the headboard, blinking sleepily with his un-patched left eye, then became more alert a moment later as his vision focused directly on Kurt. “What’s wrong? Don’t say you’re okay. You don’t smell okay.”  

Kurt entered the room and closed the door gently behind him. He stayed quiet all the way to Blaine’s bed, where Blaine’s foot bounced anxiously under his red plaid blanket as Kurt approached. When Kurt sat down on the side of the bed, his back to Blaine, Blaine reached for him and laced their fingers together.

“You’re shaking.”

Kurt was quite aware. He hadn’t been able to stop since he left the rehearsal space, since he made his silent exit and planted his back against the wall outside to catch his breath while sharp cello notes filled the room on the other side. He and Santana were supposed to meet up after his part of the plan, but Kurt had bolted, run straight to Blaine’s, his superspeed drying the tears running down his face even as they fell.

Well, he was as still as he could manage now, and the tears weren’t going anywhere. Maybe it had been a bad idea to stop running.

“Kurt.” The voice came with a pull — a physical one, not the instinctual one it always held because it was Blaine — and Kurt was held tightly to his boyfriend’s chest. Blaine had tugged him backwards between his legs, clutching him back to chest while he tried to keep it together, exactly as they’d been the other night in Kurt’s kitchen, with Kurt’s family around them.

Blaine kissed his cheek. “Just us now, okay? Whatever the problem is—”

“It’s me.”

“What? Are you — do you need blood? Is that what happened, you… you lost control? Did you hurt someone, baby?”

Kurt opened his mouth to answer “no” but couldn’t quite say it. He’d told Santana the idea was invasive, and it was: he’d gone into someone’s mind, dredged up memories that weren’t his, heard thoughts he was never supposed to hear — ugly, hateful, jealous ones at that, spite and malice spat in his direction, all with Blaine dangling in the eye of the storm. And he’d used Blaine as bait in that sinister mess, too, had been possessive and mean, purposefully trying to play on Sebastian’s nastiest insecurity. And then, though Sebastian hadn’t been physically harmed, Kurt had put his hands on him, had threatened him and left him confused and unsettled in the dark. He’d abused his power the way he’d sworn never to do. The whole thing made him want to throw up.

The worst part was the way the sight of Blaine in his bed, laying there with that patch, had made Kurt feel just a little bit better about it, the way Blaine’s smile and that one blinking eye seemed to remind him, _This is why Sebastian deserved it._

Kurt shuddered and said, “Remember when I told you how I was turned?”

“Of course. I’ll never forget it.”

“Remember how that vampire, she — she knew everything about me, and she brought up my dad and Karofsky and it was like she was looking right into me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Kurt sniffled, his voice thick, and as much as he loved looking into Blaine’s eyes, he was glad they couldn’t see each other’s faces right then. “I can do that now, apparently.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, I’m finally coming into my own as a monster.”

“Whoa, hey, why are you so upset? Please don’t cry.”

That request worked as well as it ever had on anyone. Kurt made a scratchy, grunting noise and flipped over, burying his face in Blaine’s chest.

Blaine rubbed a hand over his back. “Here, let’s…” He held Kurt by the shoulders and gently pushed until he sat up on the bed. Then he loosened Kurt’s tie, removed it, and then removed the jacket. “Boots?”

Kurt moved to sit at the side of the bed so he could take them off, but Blaine put a hand on his knee and asked, “Let me?”

He nodded, swinging his long legs around so that he was facing Blaine with his knees bent between them and the soles of his knee-high boots flat on the bed.

Blaine tried to catch his eye, but Kurt stared rather insistently at his knees, and no matter how low Blaine ducked his head to meet him, Kurt’s eyes darted to either side of his face. Blaine’s concern was deepening, but he focused his attention on Kurt’s shoelaces, untying them near the top of Kurt’s knee and slowly, slowly loosening the criss-crosses all the way down Kurt’s calf. When time came to pull the boots off, Blaine carefully lifted Kurt’s right leg, stretched it out so that Kurt’s ankle almost rested on his shoulder, and slipped off the shoe, then repeated with the left.

“Better?”

He nodded silently, still staring off to the side.

“Kurt? Why won’t you look at me?”

Kurt took a deep breath. “I feel sick.”

Blaine started unbuttoning his pajama shirt to expose his neck. “I told you, you can have some, you’ll feel better if you—”

“No,” Kurt groaned, clenching his eyes shut. “Not like that, stop. Can we—” he paused to wipe his face dry, “—can we just forget about that? Can we please pretend I’m human for a minute?”

“What?”

“Please?”

“Okay. Come here.” Blaine quickly buttoned his shirt back up and scooted so that Kurt could cuddle up against him, the way they had before he took Kurt’s jacket off.

Kurt crawled over and lay on his chest, ear to his heart, as usual.

Blaine immediately wrapped his arms around his back, one hand moving up to gently dig into Kurt’s hair and loosen the hairspray.

“Blaine,” came the annoyed, sniffly response, then, “Mmm, Blaine,” when those tentative fingers began to massage.

After a quiet moment, Blaine asked, “Why do you listen to my heart like that? Or you hold your hand over it. I like it, it’s just, you go straight for it, every time. I’ve always wondered.”

Kurt brushed his thumb back and forth over Blaine’s side. “I like feeling it beat. I miss when mine used to do that.”

“So, um… for the record, right now you’re the one pointing out that you aren’t human…”

Kurt sighed.

Blaine kissed the top of his head, breathing deep. “You’re a vampire, Kurt. I’ve never known you as anything else so I don’t know how to pretend you’re anything else.”

“That’s not all I am. You know that better than anyone.”

“No, but it’s part of you, and it’s a part I love. Why are you trying to ignore who you are? That’s not like you. It’s… worrying.”

That was their way of saying, “You’re scaring me,” because they made a point of never saying that to each other. They knew what each other was capable of, and knew that there were intense instincts at play for both of them, but they trusted each other and didn’t judge the more primal things those instincts sometimes pushed them to do.

No, what Blaine feared was whatever had shaken Kurt enough to make him run from himself like this.

“I figured out what Sebastian put in that slushie,” Kurt said, after a long, tense moment. And then he told Blaine everything. Blaine just listened and let him talk, rubbing his back and massaging his scalp until that unsettling layer of fear in Kurt’s scent started to fade.

“…and it was so private, it was — I was inside his mind, you know? Without permission. I was right there listening to every reason he hates me, watching him watching you, and I — I didn’t want to be in his head anymore, after a while. I don’t even want to use the information I found. It’s… it’s just wrong. And I — it should’ve been you before anyone else, if I did this at all. Things are always different when you try them with someone you love. I wish I had experienced this with you first.” He stopped talking then, and went loose against Blaine’s body with a loud whimper like he’d worn himself out.

Blaine was quiet for a moment, processing everything Kurt had said. “Kurt, I’m pretty sure you did do this with me first.”

Kurt finally looked up at him then.

“Oh, there you are.” Blaine smiled and put a hand on Kurt’s cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi. Put your hand back, keep rubbing — yeah, mmm, thank you… Sorry, I’ve been so… I was scared I would jump into your head by accident. I don’t have this figured out yet.”

“I think this has been happening for a while, though. Like, sometimes when we’re napping and I wake up first, you start talking to me in your sleep, but it’s like you’re responding to things I was thinking about. Or the way you’ve always understood me so well when I’m a wolf. I think you’ve been, um, ‘tuning in’ for a long time.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t mean to barge in like that. I— I can’t believe what I did. I’m a terrible person. I’m — I’m not even a person, I’m—”

Blaine squeezed him, murmuring, “No, no, no,” until he went quiet. He gestured for Kurt to get up so they could sit, legs folded, across from each other, and interlaced their fingers between them. “Baby, listen. You have no idea how happy it makes me, that we can be in sync like this. You can figure out what I need better than anyone, even when I can’t say it.”

“I guess it’s like that wolf nose of yours, how you always know right away when I’m stressed, or how you can tell when I’m sad or angry, even if you can’t tell why.”

Blaine scrunched his nose playfully, and Kurt leaned in to kiss it. He stayed there, forehead against Blaine’s, until Blaine whispered, “Does it ever seem to you like maybe we were meant for each other?”

“Yeah,” Kurt whispered back. “The one person I can’t hide from is the one I don’t have to hide from in the first place.”

Blaine nuzzled into the side of Kurt’s nose. “You know, I don’t care if it doesn’t beat; I can still feel your heart.”

Kurt surged forward then, kissing Blaine as deeply as he could. It took no time at all for Blaine to respond, cradling Kurt’s head with his hands on either side of his jaw as he kissed back, breathing Kurt in and sucking on his top lip while Kurt nibbled his lower. Kurt moved to press Blaine closer by cupping the back of his head, but he accidentally tugged on the strap of the eyepatch. Blaine winced and pulled back a little.

“Oh god, oh god, sorry, are you—”

Blaine went right back to Kurt’s mouth with a hard kiss. “Shhh, I’m okay, don’t stop—”

“We should—”

Another kiss. “We should keep kissing.”

“But are you okay? God, I keep hurting people, I’m—”

Blaine let out one of his frustrated-puppy whines and put their foreheads back together. “Listen.”

Kurt rested his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, close to the base of his throat, and let that heartbeat he knew better than his own thrum under his skin.

_**I love you. I still feel safe with you. I will ALWAYS take slushies for you. Now please shut up and kiss me.** _

Kurt laughed. “Only if you promise to close your eyes faster next time, since I know I can’t stop you from trying, even when I don’t need you to.”

“Deal.”

Kurt shoved his discarded clothing off the bed and kissed him.


End file.
